


Almost Me, Almost You

by sincerelyjaime



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Implied Past Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, M/M, Pining, Public Blow Jobs, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 15:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelyjaime/pseuds/sincerelyjaime
Summary: Kuroo is staring straight ahead, biting his lip and tossing his phone distractedly between his hands. His left foot shakes where it is still hanging out into the empty hallway.Suna has never been good at this. All he knows is that Kuroo is a talker. From the moment they met, it was near-constant chatter. Their meet-ups were usually for one thing, and one thing only, but that didn’t stop Kuroo from shutting his mouth. If he’s so quiet now, it has to mean something, right? Is Suna meant to try to pull it out of him?“So,” Suna says, pausing when Kuroo glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He picks at his cuff, feeling totally out of his element. “Do you wanna talk more about what happened out there with Ken--”“I think,” Kuroo cuts him off, sharply, before taking a deep breath and schooling his expression--downcast scowl replaced with a mischievous smirk. “That I can maybe find a better use for our mouths?”
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Almost Me, Almost You

**Author's Note:**

> Help! I've fallen into rare pair hell adsjkfl.
> 
> This fic is part of a larger kuroken verse, but I haven't actually posted the main story yet. I just couldn't stop myself from writing this companion piece after I finished up a scene in the kuroken fic. So...here we are. 
> 
> I was really nervous to write them and this is my first time ever writing Suna. I truly hope I did him justice! I've had a few people unfamiliar with my kuroken fic read over this to see if it makes sense standalone and got the thumbs up so *fingers crossed*

Suna leans out into the hallway, head moving slowly from side to side as he scopes the area out. Most of the guests are still inside the main hall, heading to the dance floor now that all of the awkward has been cleared off of the neat wooden slats. 

“Where the hell did you go?” Suna mutters to himself, stepping out into the hall; it hasn’t been _that_ long--Kuroo can’t have gone too far, even with those stupid long legs of his. Suna takes a sip from one of the flutes of champagne in his hands, already exhausted from the night.

When he had agreed to come to this wedding, it was as a favor to Kuroo--the other man had wanted a date, and being on a short break from training, Suna wasn’t really doing anything with his night anyway. The promise of free booze and mocking Atsumu all night had seemed too tempting to resist.

Suna never asked why Kuroo had wanted a date, or why Suna had been his first option, but after watching the disaster on the dance floor unfold before his eyes, it all seems pretty obvious now. 

He walks down the lavish hall, rounding a corner and making a left, but there’s still no sight of Kuroo. There is a long line of windows along each side of the hall he’s turned down, showing off the fluffy, white snowflakes drifting down from the sky in a whimsical fashion. It’s picturesque and perfectly romantic for a night like tonight, and Suna is so distracted by the sight that he trips over a pair of legs sticking out from a hidden alcove.

Once he’s righted himself, thankful that his quick reflexes mean he isn’t covered in alcohol, Suna levels Kuroo with an unimpressed look. “What are you doing?”

Kuroo, to his credit, manages to look at least a little contrite. “Oh.” He lifts his phone up, waving it around slightly. Patting the spot next to him, Kuroo smiles up at Suna. “Just needed to find somewhere I could call Koharu.”

Suna sits down beside Kuroo, somehow squeezing himself into the tight space available between Kuroo and the wall. It’s a little uncomfortable, but Suna finds that he doesn’t really mind. Wordlessly, he offers the untouched flute of champagne to Kuroo.

“Mm. She alright?” Taking a sip from his own glass, Suna tips his head back until it hits the wall with a gentle thump.

In answer, Kuroo unlocks his phone, holding the screen towards Suna. Suna snorts--there’s a picture of Daichi conked out on the sofa, head tipped back and mouth open in a snore. Asleep in his lap is Koharu, leaning back against Daichi’s chest, a dainty play crown dangerously close to falling off of her head--and pushes the screen back towards Kuroo.

“That’s disgustingly cute. Please don’t ever show it to me again.”

A smile flits across Kuroo’s face for a second and Suna can’t help but feel it like a small victory, pride blossoming in his chest. _Ew_ , he thinks, _how sappy._

Clearing his throat, Kuroo sits up and leans closer into Suna’s space. His smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes, but it’s better than earlier. “I’ll make sure to let Sawamura know that you think he’s cute...though I do think it’s unfair to make me, _your date_ , do your flirting.”

Suna lifts a brow and pushes Kuroo’s face away. “Yeah, because I’d really want to fight that _Suga_. No thanks. Besides,” he bumps his knee against Kuroo, “I guess you’ve grown on me.”

An easy silence falls over them, broken up occasionally with the distant sound of music and jovial chatter as people walk in and out of the main ballroom around the corner. Suna feels a little out of his depth here; he knows that whatever happened out on the dance floor between Kuroo and Kenma was tense--and not just because of the whole running away bit--but what’s the protocol on comforting your current fuck-buddy after an awkward run-in with the person who was supposed to be their forever?

“So,” he continues, dropping one hand to Kuroo’s thigh, the material under his palm is luxurious and cool to the touch, and squeezes lightly, “that looked pretty rough.”

Kuroo groans and falls heavily into Suna’s side. The tips of his hair tickle at Suna’s face and he huffs, smoothing the locks down with his free hand. The other man doesn’t say anything for a while, just breathes deeply and Suna doesn’t know how much he should push. How much he _wants_ to push. 

What’s his goal here? Is he meant to dig into the way that as much as Kuroo talks so nonchalantly of his past with Kenma, it was clear as day, even to Suna, that when Kenma ran away the only thing Kuroo wanted to do was run after him and make sure everything was okay. And maybe Suna should be offended that his date can’t get his mind off of his ex-boyfriend, but maybe Suna can relate.

( _“Rin, I didn’t know you’d be here tonight."_

_Suna feels caught off-guard, totally unsuspecting. Words are caught in his throat._

_"I've stooped to being someone's arm candy," he deadpans, scratching his cheek and staring off at an extravagantly decorated plant just past Osamu's shoulder._

_Smirking, Osamu leans against the counter at the front desk they are standing in front of; his bicep is bulging out of the short sleeves of his shirt and Suna regrets coming out here for a breather. "Ya shoulda made Atsumu come on his own. Less annoyin' that way."_

_"Actually, I'm--"_

_"There you are!" Kuroo says, sliding his arm around Suna's shoulders._

_"--here with Kuroo."_

_“Oh. Right...well don’t let me keep ya or nothin’.” Then Osamu raps his knuckles against the desk twice, in quick succession, and stands stiffly. His once-over of Kuroo is obvious and calculated, stare unreadable, but Suna’s gotten used to that in recent months._

_Kuroo’s arm drops lower and Suna can feel the weight of Osamu’s stare almost as heavy as the hand on his waist. When Osamu meets his eyes, and Suna lets him this time, he doesn’t know whether he wants to push Kuroo away with an explanation [that Osamu doesn’t deserve, but he feels compelled to give_ anyway _] or if it would feel better to just sit in the satisfaction that he’s gotten under Osamu’s skin._

_Or maybe he can just ignore any and all feelings he has in relation to one Miya Osamu, just like usual._

_Feeling uncomfortable, Suna snarks, “‘Samu, why don’t you take a picture if all you’re gonna do is--”_

_“--I didn’t realize you--”_

_Across the large lobby, doors slam open and a young woman, clearly in distress, bursts through them. “Miyasama! Something’s happened.”_

_“Shit. What now?” Osamu mutters and turns toward the kitchen, lifting the cap off of his head and ruffling his hair agitatedly with one hand. After a few seconds, he turns his head back to Suna, mouth opening and shutting without saying anything._

_Gray eyes are stuck to Suna’s face and Osamu swallows carefully before patting his shoulder. “Ya don’t gotta be a stranger, Rin,” he says with a finality, walking away.)_

“Aside from the whole awkward spinning in circles thing--you _do_ know how to actually dance, don’t you?--, unnecessary prolonged eye contact, and then Kenma bolting before the song was over?” Suna doesn’t feel like it would be fair to point out that the longer they were up there, the softer his face had gotten. How it went from something guarded to something almost fond. That knowledge probably wouldn’t do any involved parties any good. 

Despite his reputation and what his friends might say, it would seem that Suna _does_ have the capacity for tact. 

Kuroo pinches at Suna, managing to get a good one on his side, even through the sports coat, that smarts enough to be annoying. “I’m sorry, were my moves not impressive enough for you? I wasn’t thinking about pulling out my hottest moves, given the circumstances.”

“I bet I could show you some, if you asked nicely.”

“I can ask nicely, but I’m skeptical of any so-called _moves_ that you have. You spent the entire first three days of your break in bed.”

From where he’s sitting, Suna can just see the outside from the long row of windows. The sky is dark, lit up by the soft, shimmery yellow of the excessive amount of fairy lights all over every inch of free space. Even with the dark sky, it’s easy to see that the snow is picking up, flakes falling at a quicker pace than earlier and he’s already dreading the walk from the station back to the hotel room he had booked--too last minute to get a room here. 

“Fuck you. Physical activity is my job.” He thinks he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he can’t be bothered to pull it out and check for sure. “Besides, every eligible bachelor should have a few good moves. At least that’s what I’m told.”

“Adorable. You think I’m an eligible bachelor?”

Suna hums, pretending to contemplate his words. “You’re definitely a _bachelor_. You’re right though, I don’t know about eligible. You can’t even dance.” 

“I’m sorry I was too busy being a single dad through college to pick up on any cool new dance moves.” The laugh that leaves Kuroo mouth is nothing like his real one--loud and annoying and weirdly perfect (something that Suna is refusing to investigate any further at the moment).

“Mmm.” Suna takes a second of silence, _actually_ contemplating his words now. “Koharu seems cool. So.”

Suna doesn’t have to see Kuroo’s face to know that he has a dopey smile on his face because it happens almost every time his daughter gets brought up. Another adorable thing about him that Suna is valiantly ignoring. 

“God,” Kuroo exhales in one heavy breath and it brushes along his exposed collar bone, sending a slight shiver down his spine. “Akaashi is _dead_. I’m a good friend, so I’ll let him have his wedding day. But tomorrow? That’s fair game, I think.”

Suna laughs, jostling both of them. “What about Bokuto?”

“Bokuto is an angel. A dumb, impressionable angel who would go along with whatever Akaashi said.”

“And you think that Akaashi somehow planned for you two to both catch the bouquets?”

Sitting up to his full height, Kuroo flattens his back against the wall and stays silent; Suna has to lean to the side and turn to really look at him. He pulls one leg up close to his chest and rests his cheek on it. The two of them are still close, tucked away in this private hideaway, and despite the chill outside, it’s nothing but heat right here.

Kuroo is staring straight ahead, biting his lip and tossing his phone distractedly between his hands. His left foot shakes where it is still hanging out into the empty hallway. 

Suna has never been good at this. All he knows is that Kuroo is a _talker_. From the moment they met, it was near-constant chatter. Their meet-ups were usually for one thing, and one thing only, but that didn’t stop Kuroo from shutting his mouth. If he’s so quiet now, it has to mean something, right? Is Suna meant to try to pull it out of him?

“So,” Suna says, pausing when Kuroo glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He picks at his cuff, feeling totally out of his element. “Do you wanna talk more about what happened out there with Ken--”

“I think,” Kuroo cuts him off, sharply, before taking a deep breath and schooling his expression--downcast scowl replaced with a mischievous smirk. “That I can maybe find a better use for our mouths?” 

Down the hall, Suna can hear the muffled sound of the DJ making an announcement about the cake cutting and Bokuto’s resulting excited _‘Akaashi!’_ Kuroo's gaze is heavy on him, and the inside of Suna’s mouth feels so dry.

He reaches out and plucks at Kuroo’s lapel, rubbing the material between his fingers as he stares at Kuroo through the fringe that’s fallen across his face. Suna tilts his head, doing his best to ignore the anticipation bubbling in his gut and appear bored; it’s hard to keep his face straight, especially with how Kuroo presses his thumb against Suna’s bottom lip before dragging it along his jaw softly. 

"Yeah?" Suna leans into the touch, stretching his neck when Kuroo straddles his lap. Their faces are close, the scent of expensive cologne and champagne lingering in the space between them. An open bar meant that he was able to drink as much as he wanted (and he hadn't been afraid to take advantage of it), but even that can't account for the fuzzy haze that has fallen over him as he stares into Kuroo's eyes, or the way that he'll probably go along with whatever comes out of Kuroo's mouth as long as it keeps the pitiful look off of his face. 

"You planning on sharing with the class or…?" he continues, the words sticking to the inside of his mouth like honey.

The feeling of Kuroo's lips on his isn't a new feeling anymore; they've been hooking up for weeks now. What started out as a drunken one-time fling somehow snowballed into the two of them meeting up with an increasing frequency. It still sends a shock of pleasure down his spine that has him licking his way into Kuroo's mouth almost immediately. 

Kuroo doesn't fight it, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue against Suna's own hotly. They stay like that for several minutes, lips parting over and over again as they tilt their heads side to side. It's hot and heavy, fingers tangled in hair and erections straining against the confining fabric of their dress pants. 

Every time Suna groans, the low, throaty sound threatening to spill out into the empty hallway, Kuroo is there to swallow it down with fervor. It's so intense that Suna doesn't even notice Kuroo's hands at his zipper until his fingers have already dipped beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs.

He pulls away, staring at Kuroo with wide eyes. His heart is racing in his chest, but he's doing his best to appear unaffected. "What are you doing?" he whispers, out of breath.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Kuroo's hand finds Suna's cock in his underwear and the feeling of his long fingers around it has him shivering involuntarily.

Without meaning to, Suna bucks his hips up slightly. He's so hard and Kuroo's hand feels so good, but…

He glances over Kuroo’s shoulder; the hallway is empty and the only sound is the quiet thump of the bass from the sound system set up near the dance floor in the other room. They aren't exactly _hidden away_ and anyone could walk by and see them.

"You're the worst." Suna gasps as Kuroo's hand slides around his dick slowly, more a tease than anything.

Kuroo leans in and chuckles against Suna's ear, his breath puffing hotly against the skin there. "Mhm," he hums, pressing kisses along his jaw and working his way down the column of his neck. "You can stop me at any time, you know."

"Shit." Suna unbuttons the collar of his dress shirt haphazardly with one hand, the other going to rest on one of Kuroo's hips. The newly exposed skin immediately falls prey to Kuroo's wandering lips as he begins to suck a dark mark there.

It feels so good--the slide of wet lips, the slight nip of teeth, the heat of Kuroo’s uncontained groans as he pumps his hands along Suna's dick, now pulled fully out of his underwear--that it takes about 30 seconds longer than it should have to remember their rule.

"No marks, remember?" Suna complains, swatting half-heartedly at Kuroo's ducked head. He can feel it when Kuroo smirks against his collarbone. As much as Suna wants to be annoyed at the blatant defiance of their clearly defined rules (1. No strings attached and 2. No marks), but he's finding it hard to care when Kuroo's lips can make him feel like _this_ . _What a jerk_.

"Sorry, got caught up." Kuroo sounds anything but sorry. "You're hot, you know that?"

“Tell that to my manager,” Suna complains. Even to his own ears, it doesn’t sound convincing, said too breathily as he tips his head, allowing Kuroo’s lips (and teeth) access to more of his skin. “I’d rather not have my face and hickies plastered all over Twitter.”

With one final nip at Suna’s neck, Kuroo slides down his legs so that he is now straddling Suna’s shins, ass hovering over his ankles. “I’ll make it up to you.” He smirks at Suna, eyes shining with mischief. “Promise.”

“You better.” Suna reaches out with one hand and threads his fingers through the thick hair at the back of Kuroo’s head. 

Kuroo licks his lips and leans down, swallowing Suna down without any preamble. The fervent way that he sucks at Suna’s cock, cheeks hollowing and his free hand stroking the bit that won’t fit into his mouth leaves Suna choking out a gasp.

It’s so wet and hot; Suna isn’t sure whether he wants to sing praise to the sky because _holy shit, he’s so good with his mouth_ or if he should be annoyed at the damp feeling he can feel soaking into the crotch of his pants from the spit that is sliding down the corners of Kuroo’s lips.

The decision is made for him when he chances a glance down at his lap and sees Kuroo watching him with glazed eyes, moaning around the cock in his mouth. He stares down, almost in awe, while Kuroo bobs his head up and down. 

They are both too big to be doing this here, their legs no doubt dangling out into the hallway where someone could see them if they were to walk by. Kuroo’s balancing his weight on one arm, the other still working in a steady rhythm, while his shoulders hunch almost awkwardly.

But _god,_ is it _hot_.

The _click-click-click_ of heels hits his ears, the sound growing closer to them with each subsequent click on the tiled floor, and for a second, he’s afraid that they’ve been found out. Suna can see the line of Kuroo’s shoulders tense, his movements slowing down. But then, the sound stops. Voices hit his ear, a man and a woman’s but they are too far away to sound like anything more than an incoherent mumble to Suna.

With bated breath, Suna waits for them to be found out, but then the clicking starts up again, moving away from them this time. Kuroo's mouth never stops moving, even with the risk of being caught, and it stirs something inside of Suna. After a few more moments and no one else walks by, Suna feels like he can finally relax.

Kuroo’s tongue swirls around the head of Suna’s cock and he pulls away to stare up at him. His teeth tug and his lips. “Tell me how it feels,” Kuroo whispers, voice hoarse.

Suna stares, breath caught in his throat. He nods. 

Slower this time, Kuroo pumps his fist in time with each bob of his head, moans rumbling from his throat and vibrating along Suna’s cock. Suna knocks his head back when his dick meets the back of Kuroo’s throat. “Shit,” he pants. “That feels so fucking good.”

The praise spurs Kuroo on, and with each slide of his tongue along Suna’s dick, each time he meets the back of Kuroo’s throat with a groan, and with every grind of Kuroo’s own erection along his thigh, Suna feels himself getting pulled closer and closer towards orgasm. 

“Yeah, just like that, baby.” The name falls off of his lips before he can catch it; Kuroo stills for a split-second, but before Suna has time to curse himself out mentally, he does something with his hand that has him seeing stars. “God, you feel great,” he whispers thickly. 

It only takes a few more pulls along his cock before he feels his orgasm reaching it’s head. “Kuroo, I’m gonna come.” Suna tries to pull Kuroo’s head away, but he just shakes it in response. 

Using the hand that wasn’t propping him up, Kuroo grabs Suna’s wrist and guides his hand to the back of his head and Suna’s not dumb--he can take a hint. He pushes down on Kuroo’s head, choking him on his cock and groaning at how good it feels, how pretty the sound of Kuroo choking on his dick is to his ears. 

“So sexy,” Suna pants out, his orgasm hitting him all at once as the heat that had been bubbling in his belly erupts; he keeps Kuroo there for a few seconds, but lets up eventually. Kuroo keeps his head in Suna’s lap, eyes closed as he ruts against his legs, smearing the small dribble of cum leaking out of Suna’s tip all over his forehead.

Kuroo sighs, stilling, and turning his head to the side to stare at the wall to his left.

“C’mere,” Suna says, out of breath, heart hammering in his chest. “Let me finish you off.”

Patting Suna’s hip, Kuroo chuckles. “Don’t worry, that’s already taken care of.”

It takes a second for the gears to start turning in his head, brain foggy after such a phenomenal orgasm. But then it clicks--” _Seriously_?”

“Heh.” Kuroo sits up, tucking Suna back into his pants and zipping him up. Pulling out the carefully folded pocket square on the front of his jacket, Kuroo wipes away the seven that has now started to dry on his forehead. “What can I say? You’re the best sexy distraction I could ever ask for.” He presses a kiss to Suna’s cheek and stands up, offering a hand out to him. “Ready to go back in?”

_Right._

The place where Kuroo kissed him burns.

 _Distraction_.

Suna accepts Kuroo’s proffered hand, dropping it as soon as he’s steady on his feet. He dusts imaginary dirt off his suit and quirks an eyebrow at Kuroo, eyeing his pants. “Shouldn’t you take care of that?”

 _That’s what this is._ Suna thinks of a pair of slate gray eyes and dark hair, of strong muscles and gentle hands. Of missed opportunities and heartbreak. _Distraction from the bitch called love._

Making a face, almost as if he forgot, Kuroo groans. “Shit.”

Suna smirks and pats him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go check with Bokuto about when your best man duty can end. I’ll go check with Atsumu and see if he wants to head out with us or if he's planning on sticking around a little longer."

They walk back to the reception room where the party is still roaring. Parting ways at the door, Kuroo heads straight ahead towards where Bokuto can be seen at the head table stuffing his face with food, while Suna takes a left towards the table he last saw Atsumu at. When he gets to the table though, Atsumu isn’t alone. Suna’s world freezes for a second and he finds himself nearly stumbling over his own two feet when he sees Osamu standing in front of Atsumu; even though Osamu is bent towards his brother, half of his face hidden, Suna can still tell that he’s upset by something as he whispers emphatically, one arm gesturing wildly to the side.

Osamu’s mouth snaps shut once he takes notice of Suna; the weight of Osamu’s gaze serves as a reminder of what he and Kuroo had just gotten up to out in the hallway--his kiss-bitten lips and rumpled clothes leaving nothing to mystery. 

“Hey, ‘Samu,” Suna says when it’s clear that the other isn’t planning on saying anything else anytime soon. It’s never been this awkward between them before, but he guesses, that’s what happens when you lay your heart out at your best friend’s feet and get it squashed.

He hears Bokuto’s loud voice, and when he looks over to where the sound came from, he sees Kuroo talking to him, patting him on the shoulder and smiling. 

When he looks back at Osamu, he grits his teeth. _It’s fine_ , Suna thinks as his heart squeezes. _They’ve always been fine._ “Everything okay?” He can see Kuroo walking towards them now and he feels panicked. It’s stupid, really. Osamu’s thoughts on what he gets up to, and with _whom_ , during his free time shouldn’t fucking matter. 

They are still staring at each other when Osamu half-yelps, throwing Atsumu a nasty glare as he tries to subtly rub at his side where Atsumu elbowed him. Osamu’s eyes are still stony, but the line of his shoulders has softened and he’s wringing the waist apron tied he’s donning in his hand. “Hey, do ya got a sec? I--”

“Sorry it took so long.” Kuroo’s voice is loud in his ear, and the arm he slings around Suna’s shoulder has him tensing up for half of a second before he catches it. Suna leans into the touch, trying to fight back against the feelings of guilt that are beginning to churn inside of him. “You know how Bokuto is--won’t shut up once he gets started.”

Suna snorts, eyeing Kuroo with a small smirk. “Gee. Sounds like someone else I know.” Ignoring Kuroo’s indignant scoff, Suna returns his gaze to Osamu and starts to ask, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Osamu looks at Suna, and his eyes shutter closed even more, somehow. He shoots one last look at Atsumu. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. If you'll excuse me--lots of work to be done.” Sliding past Kuroo and Suna carefully with a polite nod, Osamu stalks off towards the kitchen.

See, Osamu’s thoughts on what Suna does in his free time, and with whom, shouldn’t matter, but they really fucking _do_. 

“My brother’s an idiot,” Atsumu says after a few seconds of silence. A record for him, probably, especially considering it looks like he's itching to say something else. Nothing else comes though, except for the assessing look on his face. 

“Mm.” Suna doesn't stare after Osamu even though it feels like he's fighting against some kind of natural instinct. He inspects the nails on his left hand and shrugs. Stepping away from Kuroo and letting the arm around his shoulders drop, Suna turns away from Atsumu and does his best to ignore the pitying look on his face. "Whatever." 

He looks at Kuroo and tips his head towards the exit. To Atsumu, he says, “I came over here to tell you we were going to head out. You gonna stay a while?”

Atsumu makes a retching noise and stands up. “Thanks, but,” he gestures towards their rumpled clothes, “ya clearly already got yer hands all over each other already. I don’t want to be subject to whatever you two get up to tonight in the privacy of yer hotel room.” 

He takes off before Suna can reply, so he just shrugs at the raised eyebrow Kuroo aims at him. “Osamu’s not the only idiot.”

They walk through the door into the hallway, making a quick stop at the coat-check to grab their things; as he messes with his collar and straightens out his collar, Kuroo asks, “Did I interrupt something earlier?” 

Suna doesn’t say anything until they are outside, shoes crunching in the fluffy snow that has piled up over the course of hours spent inside. It’s still falling down, and Suna half-worries about making it back to the hotel. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters after a second, shoving his hands in his pockets to shield them from the chill. “If Osamu has something to say, he can say it.” 

Kuroo nudges Suna with his shoulder. “...you good?” Suna feels irritation creeping in and there’s a part of him that knows it’s irrational and he shouldn’t be bothered with it, but it settles deep in his bones. He’s reminded of earlier, when he’d been on the other end of a similar conversation with Kuroo and he _hates_ being on this end of it. 

_But_ , he thinks, shoes kicking up snow with each step, side warmed by Kuroo’s presence to his right, _Osamu’s thoughts about what I get up to don’t mean shit_.

And he really tries to mean it this time.

“Hey,” Suna says, voice loud in the calm of the night, the wedding and every confusing encounter that happened there several yards behind them and counting, “let me take care of you when we get back to the hotel.” He takes his right hand out of his pocket and it hangs in the space between them, swaying back and forth the barest amount with each step they take.

“Sure,” Kuroo replies breathily after a beat. “What an honor to be treated by Japan’s most eligible bachelor.” 

Suna snorts; when Kuroo’s pinky brushes his, he tries not to jump. When Kuroo’s fingers thread through his, he stares straight ahead and tries not to think about how his cheeks feel as warm as Kuroo’s fingers entwined with his perpetually cold ones. 

Whatever is between himself and Kuroo is no strings attached, but sometimes…

Sometimes, during moments like these, Suna wonders if there could ever be something more? Would he want it?

He leaves the thoughts behind him as they step onto the train. Right next to the thoughts of whatever Osamu had wanted to say earlier.

It won’t serve him, so he just…

Lets them go.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I would very much like to hear your thoughts <3
> 
> You can find me on twt @ [flowercrownkuro ](https://twitter.com/flowercrownkuro)


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